


Our Last Dance

by KarenaWilliams (ryvrr)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-09 13:12:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4350122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryvrr/pseuds/KarenaWilliams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When no one else was there, he was. To hold your hand, to wipe away your tears, and to catch you when you fell. For him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. (prologue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updated and revised Prologue posted on July 21, 2015.**

“We’re just not working out,” came his response from across the dinner table. You blinked owlishly at him in confusion, because that was definitely out of left field. His eyes wouldn’t look up at you as he instead studied his plate, moving the vegetables about on it like it was his life mission. Even when the silence stretched between you-- tense and pointed-- he didn’t bring his gaze up to you.

Perhaps it was the distance? You hadn’t seen each other in weeks, mostly because your work and his kept you both apart. You would have moved to Romania-- you had even told him you would last year-- but he’d been the one to turn the idea down. You had figured he wasn’t ready for the two of you to live together again so soon after the drama of last time. Things had gotten tense, when it looked like he wasn’t going to get a job because of his last one, and there had been more fighting, but… that was settled now. He’d gotten the job in Romania, and had said he’d move there first to get settled before you’d follow. 

That had never happened, at least not to this day almost a year and a half later. He kept telling you that it just wasn’t the time, but maybe he’d been putting it off because of _this_. “What?” you asked finally when it became apparent he wasn’t going to say anything else. You set your fork down hard against the table, but he didn’t even look up at the sound. “Don’t joke around, Charlie. This isn’t funny.” 

He looked anywhere but at you: the ceiling, the floor, the table, even your hands placed firmly in front of your own food. “ (Y/N),” he tried again, but you cut him off. You could tell by his expression that this wasn’t a joke in bad taste and that he was being serious. 

“Charlie,” you said firmly and got to your feet. It seemed he took this as an invitation to get serious as well, because he also clambered out of his chair and his eyes finally met your own. You took a step forward as you studied his face, a frown firmly on your own lips. You reached out to gently trace your fingertips across his cheeks, but he drew away from you in a gesture akin to a wince. 

“(Y/N),” Charlie said again, and this time you could hear pain in his voice. You watched him with an expression close to horror that he’d flinch away from you. “You had to have known this was coming. I mean, I’m not exactly subtle.” He attempted to make an expression of self deprecating humor at his own expense, but you just continued to stare at him blankly. 

“What are you talking about?” you asked and your voice did something funny at the end. It probably had something to do with the lump that was quickly growing in your throat. How could you have seen this coming? Sure, things had been tense and awkward and plain _weird_ lately, but you’d figured he was just stressed with work. You weren’t the best whenever your band was on tour, so you’d been willing to forgive him for his own problems. You’d both been together for three years in school, and then another three years out of it. Six years of a relationship only to watch it crumble without a real reason? This seemed more like a nightmare than real life. 

“We haven’t been the same since a year ago,” Charlie told you gently and his eyes came up to look into your own again. The were glazed over to hide any pain he was feeling from you now, and all your mind could screen was that he didn’t care anymore. Something had broken between the two of you. You had to look away or else risk tears gathering in your eyes. “We’ve been drifting apart,  (Nickname)\--” 

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped and clench your hands at your sides, anger thrumming in your veins as you look back at him again with narrowed eyes. “Don’t you dare call me that if you’re just going to take my heart and _throw it back in my face_.” 

“ (Y/N)\--” He took a step forward, a hand raised as if to plead with you, but you just shake your head in response. 

“No,” you told him and shook your head. “If you’re going to break up with me like this-- after we haven’t seen each other in a month, after you feed me excuse after excuse, after you try to make it seem like things are okay when you first got here earlier-- then I don’t want to hear it. If you’re just going to tell me you don’t love me anymore, after _everything_ we’ve been through, after all the pain and heartache and--” You broke off for a moment as tears flood your eyes. You shook your head and clenched your hands tighter, letting your nails bite into the palm of your hands to ground you. “Just get out. Don’t come back.” 

“Please,” he whispered, taking one last step forward, his hand clasped around your upper arm. For a moment you take comfort from the gesture and close your eyes, sucking in a breath through your nose and releasing it through your clenched teeth. You jerked it out of his grasp a moment later. Even as you felt your heart break in your chest, even as you felt like the entire world was falling away beneath your feet, you mustered a glare and jerked your chin up so you could stare him dead on in the eyes. 

“Get out,” you told him and firmly placed your hands against his chest and gave him a small shove. Not hard enough to hurt him or make him fall over, but enough to let him know you were serious. “ _Get out_!” 

So he did.


	2. (one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Revised and Updated Chapter.** This chapter was self-beta'd. Any mistakes are my own!
> 
> So, uh, hi! If you're wondering _"where did all the chapters go!?"_ then this note is for you: I took them down. I'm completely redoing this whole story, and I'd only made that decision after posting all those chapters. It would be too complicated to just delete the random ones as I combined them and polished them, so it'd be better to just post up the new chapters as I edit.
> 
> Anyway, thanks to the people who showed interest in this even when it was crummy! I hope this updated and better-fied version suits your needs. <3

“(Y/N), I’m glad you could make it,” Bill said as you set your bag on the ground. You smiled up at him as you got back to your feet, smoothing a hand over your clothes almost self consciously. He looked so nice in his suit! You still couldn’t believe William Weasley was getting married. It brought up all the old memories you had made with him-- and your ex-fiance, his younger brother Charlie.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Bill,” you told him truthfully. Even if you hadn’t parted on good terms with his brother, you had never held it against any of the other Weasleys. You’d seen them out and about whenever you were in town, but hadn’t really had moments to be able to fully talk to them. “How’ve you been? I’m presuming well, since you’re getting married and all.” You attempted not to think too hard on your own memories of wedding planning with Charlie, back when you both were still engaged and talking about prospective dates and who to invite. It just wasn’t something that you should dwell upon. Today was for happy memories! 

“Yeah,” Bill replied. “I’m doing great. Wait till you meet Fleur! She’s great, I’m sure you’ll love her.” You had forgotten how much you liked Bill. He was so happy and carefree, ready to laugh and joke around. Though that was pretty much the entire Weasley family, if you were being honest with yourself. He reached out and clapped you firmly on the shoulder, grinning. You felt your own lips stretch into an equally bright smile. 

“So!” You clapped your hands together and Bill took that as the segway it was. He took a step back and peered curiously at you, waiting what you’d say next. “Where can I get dressed? I promise I brought something better to wear for tonight then these jeans.” You waved a hand at your attire and shrugged your shoulders. “Though they’re a really nice pair, I’m also here for a job, you know! Gotta keep a good impression.” You picked up the bag you had set down upon your arrival and slung it over your shoulder. 

“I can’t believe you agreed to do this last minute,” Bill told you as he began to lead you towards the house. You shifted a bit uncomfortably in your jacket as you neared, but attempted not to look as nervous as you felt. You were pretty good at putting up a good front, what with all your years in the limelight as a celebrity. “Fleur was freaking out that we wouldn’t have a singer for the band, since the other one dropped out so last minute.” 

“I’m glad I can help,” you told him as he opened the back door to the Burrow. He stepped aside to let you enter first. You glanced around the kitchen as you went inside, but no one was around. Your heart pounded hard against the inside of your chest, but you swallowed down your nerves. Maybe you could get through here, get changed and then get set up on stage before you had to talk to anyone. If you were able to do that then you wouldn’t have to talk to anyone until towards the end of the wedding! 

“Oh,” came a voice from the doorway and you froze in your tracks. You turned slowly to stare in that direction and found Ginny Weasley in the doorway, grinning at you. “(Y/N), it’s really you!” She rushed forward with open arms and hugged you tightly around the middle as you chuckled and hugged her back. 

“Look at you!” you told her as you stepped back, your hands on her shoulders as you took her in. “You’ve grown so much! You’re so pretty, Ginny!” 

Ginny laughed with delight. “You’re just as beautiful as _I_ remember,” she said in response. She grinned up at you with flushed pink cheeks. “I didn’t know you were coming though.” She flashed a mock glare at her older brother before looking at you again. 

“She’s the singer for the band,” Bill explained with a shrug. “Last minute thing, since the other one dropped out so suddenly. I sent her an owl and begged her. She agreed she’d do it for me as a wedding gift!” 

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Ginny told you as she hugged you tightly one last time. She took a step back a moment later. “I have to go though! I’ve got to find Fleur’s little sister, and we have to get ready for the wedding. I’ll talk with you later!” She waved and then quickly headed out of the kitchen, leaving you to stand in silence with Bill. 

“We’ve all missed you,” he said earnestly after a moment and you turned just in time to see the sad look flash across his face. You forced a smile to your face and waved your hand about. 

“Come on,” you told him. “None of that! Today’s supposed to be a happy day, William Arthur Weasley!” You placed your hands on your hips as you chastised him. Bill just shook his head and laughed. 

“Stop! You look too much like Mum when you do that.” 

You reached up and scratched the back of your neck, but laughed in response. “I’ve missed you too,” you told him a moment later and your gaze softened. It wasn’t a lie either. You missed all of the Weasley, who’d been so kind and loving to you growing up. When Charlie had brought you home to meet his parents you’d been so nervous, but they’d accepted you as one of their own. Mrs. Weasley had been the nicest of them all, doting on you and caring for you, always fussing about your health and happiness. You missed them so much, but had refused to dwell on it too closely over the years since the split. 

“Come on,” Bill said and motioned for you to follow. “Let’s get you a bathroom to change in, and then I can take you back outside.” 

“Thanks,” you told him with a small smile and gratefully followed him out of the kitchen. You tried to push the memories back that came to you as you walked through the Burrow. The first time Charlie had brought you here, you’d been alight with nerves, jittery and uncomfortable. It looked like nothing had changed since your stomach was still knotted up because of your anxiety. You remembered how he’d held your hand and whispered in your ear, comforting you. It made your stomach twist harshly to have the memory come back up, and you quickly shoved it back down again. It was better to repress, you supposed! At least, that’s what you always told yourself over the years. 

No, it was better not to remember the good times. Charlie had broken your heart and created a rift in your trust for others. You didn’t want to remember the good times, because that meant your anger at him would subside. You wanted to stay angry at him, at the sudden and harsh way he’d broken things off. It made you feel a little better to shroud yourself in the dark emotion, because it kept you from cracking further under the strain of knowing it was over _forever_. 

“Here we are,” Bill said as he pushed open the bathroom door on the first floor. “You can change in here, then I’ll show you to your seat outside. I’ll wait right here for you even! Everyone else is busy helping Fleur get ready and setting things up.” For a moment Bill hesitated, his body still blocking the bathroom’s door so you couldn’t step forward yet. “Charlie _is_ here,” he finally said a moment later, and you understood why he looked so hesitant as he said the words. 

You had figured as much. “I know,” you told him and then moved around him to get into the bathroom. You had almost pushed the door completely shut before you said, “Thank you for telling me, though.” 

“ (Y/N),” Bill began, “what happened between you two—” 

“Please!” You waved your hand as if that would dispel the serious atmosphere between the two of you. “Let’s not talk about that now. Today’s about you and Fleur! It’s definitely not about me and my failed relationship with your brother. Let’s not bring up old wounds, Bill.” 

“Alright,” he agreed with you, though he looked loathed to do so. He waved, then turned and pointed back towards the kitchen. “I’m going to be waiting right outside the door for you, okay? So come back out once you’re done and ready.” You closed the door once he was out of your sight and leaned against it for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You locked it a moment later and went to stand over the sink, resting your hands on it and leaning forward to study your reflection. You practiced rhythmic breathing for a few moments until your pulse wasn’t thundering in your veins and then released one last breath slowly. 

Charlie was here. You’d figured he would be, but it was another thing entirely to know for certain. Certainty was something else entirely. 

You leaned over to grab your bag again and began fumbling around inside of it, grabbing the things you’d need. There was no time to dally about! Bill was waiting outside to show you where you needed to go, and you’d hate to waste his time. You changed as quickly as you could manage without hurting the dress, then ran your fingers through your hair. You looked good! More than good, you assured yourself quietly, because you’d made sure everything was perfect earlier that morning. Spells were amazing to work with for your beauty routines and it also meant that your hair wasn’t even one strand out of place. 

You managed to smile cheerfully at your own reflection. Your makeup was pristine, your hair was done just the way you’d wanted, and you didn’t look unhappy at all! Yes, you were quite sure that if Charlie saw you, he was going to eat his heart out. It was exactly what any ex in your position would hope for! You turned back towards the door as you shrunk your bag and snuck it into the clutch you’d brought. You patted yourself down to make sure the dress was in place before opening the door and stepping back into the hall. 

You were going to make Charlie regret leaving you. 

  
  


* * *

“Well look who it is!”

“Yes, I say,” came another voice from behind you. You had just stepped outside to find that Bill had vanished. Apparently your luck wasn’t all too bad, however, because that was when the twins stumbled upon you. You could recognize their voices anywhere. You turned just in time for two blurs of red to tackle you. A moment later Fred wrapped his arms around you and hefted you up to carry you bridal style towards the seats.

“Fred! George!” You slapped a hand on Fred’s shoulder. “You definitely shouldn’t be lugging me around. I can walk, you know.” 

“Now why would we make you walk?” Fred asked cheerfully. You were pretty thankful at this point that Charlie had taught you the trick to telling them apart, otherwise you’d probably be pretty confused right now. You pasted on a glare as you turned to peer at George, as if this was somehow his entire fault though it was his twin carrying you. 

“That would destroy the fun!” George told you with a huge grin, chuckling under his breath. “Can’t have that.” You were about to open your mouth and respond when your eyes caught on the bandage over his ear. You furrowed your brows together and snapped your mouth closed. The smile quickly dropped from his face and he turned his head away, reaching up a hand to itch at his cheek. You could sense that he’d just ignore any question to posed about it, so you let it go. 

“Here we are,” Fred announced with much bravado, leaning over so your feet could be placed firmly on the ground. “We found her, Bill! No problem at all.” It seemed they had been bringing you to Bill. There was another man standing next to him, who turned right as you got yourself back on your feet. You opened your mouth to address Bill, but lost all interest when you realized who it was standing next to him. 

“Charlie,” you said calmly, but your fingers tightened their grip on your clutch. His eyes widened when he saw you, and then they dipped down to take in the whole view. You attempted to eat your smug smile as he looked you over. Fred and George moved so that you were now all in a circle together, one twin on either side your shoulders. You pursed your lips as you studied Charlie right on back. 

“(Y/N),” Charlie responded in a thick voice. It sounded like he was forcing the word out of his throat. Your eyes narrowed a little, but you took a deep breath and pushed it aside. You’d at least act cordial. You were at Bill’s wedding, and you didn’t want to throw any drama into the mix. This was supposed to be the best day of his life. It’d be selfish of you to ruin that for a petty fight with your ex, who just so happened to be his little brother. “What are you doing--?” 

“I invited her,” Bill cut in smoothly. “I needed a new singer for the band, and I happened to remember that my brother’s ex is a very popular one for a wizard band.” Bill clapped his hand on Charlie’s shoulder and you could see he was squeezing tightly. “Also, it didn’t hurt that Fleur was a fan.” 

You dipped your head in acknowledgement and managed to put a smile on your face. “When I got his owl, I have to admit I was a bit hesitant to agree. However, when he told me his soon-to-be wife was a fan, I accepted. I thought it’d be a nice wedding surprise for her.” 

Charlie’s eyes remained focused on you for a moment longer before they darted away. “The wedding is due to start soon,” Bill told you instead, when it was clear his brother wasn’t going to say anything more on the topic. He tore his own gaze away to smile at you. “Why don’t I show you to your seat before everyone starts arriving?” 

“Please,” you said. 

“No, no!” Fred cut in. “Really, Bill, we can do it. It’s your wedding day!” 

George had a devious grin on his face, which you found was a matching set with Fred’s once you glanced his way. “Yes,” George agreed as he slipped his arm around your waist. He used it to turn you away from the older Weasley boys and began to walk you down the aisle. “We’ll show her to her seat!” he called over his shoulder as you both walked away. 

“Come, (Y/N),” Fred said as he hurried to take up the arm on your free side. “Right this way!” 

“You two,” you murmured under your breath with a shake of your head. They were always goofing off. It was nice to know that things hadn’t changed in the years you’d not seen them. You had thought maybe with time they’d change, but clearly that wasn’t the case. When the two of you were out of earshot of Bill and Charlie, you turned and grinned first at George, then at Fred. “So I hear you two started a very successful business!” 

“Yes,” Fred responded and looked quite proud of himself. “You should come by sometime.” 

“You should,” George seconded. “We’ve missed you!” 

“Very much,” Fred agreed as they reached the row you were clearly seated in, because they released your arms a moment later. “Here you are,” Fred said and waved his arms towards the row. “Right here at the end of the aisle.” You dipped your head in acknowledgement and smoothed your hands over your dress as you seated yourself. Fred studied you for a few moments more, then jerked his head around when his name was called. “Oh, looks like it’s time for me to take my place! I’m one of the ushers, after all.” 

Fred dashed off, but George lingered. You turned to peer up at him, a brow quirked. “Yes, George?” It felt weird not to call him by the nickname you’d always used, but you weren’t as close to him as you’d once been. He grinned at you as if he could tell you’d been thinking about it, then took a step closer and flicked a strand of your hair away from your eyes. 

“We really did miss you,” he told you in a hushed voice. “I think Charlie did most of all.” 

A stab of pain speared through your chest, but you swallowed the words that bubbled up with it. It wouldn’t help matters any by admitting how much you’d missed them all too, how awful it had been to cut yourself off from their pity and their understanding. You had been so excited to join their family, how you wondered how they all were but never found the courage to reach out to them. Most of all, though, you missed Charlie and the way things used to be. It was like a gaping wound in your chest, left to fester and corrode and never heal. You hadn’t let it heal. You didn’t want it to. It was scary to think that, if you let it go, you’d forget Charlie and everything that the two of you had shared. 

“I doubt that,” you said instead as you looked away from George’s gaze. “Charlie was the one who broke it off, after all.” 

“Huh?” George said as he blinked owlishly down at you. You looked up just in time to see the confusion flit across his face. “Oh, he never told us. We just figured, you know…” 

“What?” you asked as your eyes narrowed. “That I gave up on him because of how much time he spent in Romania?” You scoffed and shook your head. “No, I’m not that selfish. His job made him so happy. I wanted it to work, he didn’t. He said it was over. That’s it.” 

“Oh,” George muttered again and his brown eyes-- so like his brother Charlie’s, so like all of the Weasley’s-- studied you for a few more moments. “I see.” 

You hummed in response. You looked at your feet instead of at his face, pained to even be talking about this still. You weren’t sure what else there was to be said. “I supposed you do now.” 

“I think he regrets it,” George told you and you looked up, your mouth falling open to retort, but George was already walking away. Apparently the conversation was over. George’s parting words roiled around in your head and refused to leave. You kept hearing them, over and over. _I think he regrets it,_ George had said so flippantly, as if he didn’t know he was dropping a bomb upon your thoughts and feelings. 

You huffed and turned back towards the front, clenching your hands in your lap. Fat lot of good that did him now.  
  


* * *

The ceremony was beautiful. You were at a loss for words as you watched the entire thing unfold. The bride-- Fleur, Bill had said her name was-- was breathtakingly beautiful. She glowed with a happiness you envied. Would you have looked like that, if you and Charlie had stayed together and gotten married? The thought chased itself around in your head during the ceremony, no matter how much you tried to shove it away. It just made the taste of bitter _almosts_ cling to the tip of your tongue.

You couldn’t think like this. It’d only depress you. You sat up a little straighter and focused on the words being spoken instead. You’d feel better once this whole thing was behind you, you were sure. It was just dredging up all these horrible memories-- of the breakup, of the bitterness after Charlie had left and never talked to you again. The ceremony was lovely, though, and it helped to bring your thoughts back to the present. You were surprised when the balloons above the bride and groom burst and birds of paradise along with bells came raining down. You gasped in delight and clapped with the rest of the guests. 

Your eyes trailed away from the newly wedded couple to land on Charlie. His eyes were already on you as he clapped, and his face was serious as he studied you. Your face flushed-- you could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks-- and you quickly looked away. If you kept looking at him, you were going to end up going to him and saying something stupid. You’d only end up regretting it later. You couldn’t let yourself do that, not after everything that had gone down between the both of you. 

You stood up when bid and hurried to where the band was assembling. You reached them quickly enough, with only a few moments to spare. “Hi,” you greeted as you stuck a hand out, forcing a smile to your face. “I’m  (Y/N). I’m the singer booked to play with you guys.” 

“We ‘eard we’d be gettin’ the lass from that great band to sing,” said a fellow standing a little to your right, who reached out to shake your hand as he spoke. “Lovely. I’m a big fan.” 

“Oh, thank you,” you told him and your smile turned more genuine. “I’m honored.” 

“Well,” he said and jerked his head towards the raised platform where’d you’d be performing. “Let’s go, lass.” You followed along with them and took your spot front and center. You repositioned the microphone so it was on your level and beamed out at the crowd. This was where you were most comfortable. It didn’t matter that the Weasleys were out there-- along with others you might know-- because whenever you stood up on a stage everything else drained away. This was where you’d always been told you were meant for. You couldn’t be nervous when you were about to sing your heart out. 

You didn’t bother to greet anyone, just let the music pick up behind you and swayed a little from side to side. You were pleasantly surprised that they were playing something you knew. Bill must have told them before hand what tunes you could go with. You smiled as, opening your mouth, you began to sing along. You watched with half your attention as Bill and Fleur walked out onto the dance floor together, beaming and shining with happiness. They were beautiful together-- a complementary pair-- as they began dancing and laughing as they went along. It was clear to anyone who looked at them how head over heels they were for one another. She only had eyes for him, and he only looked back at her. You wished faintly that you could still have that with Charlie. 

At the thought of your ex, your eyes trailed around as you sang and searched the crowd. He had to be somewhere. Your eyes finally landed on him a moment later. He was on the outskirts, talking amiably with some older fellow. It was like he felt your eyes on him, however, because a moment later he glanced towards the platform you were on. You looked away quickly, because it’d only be a moment more before he’d look at you and his eyes connected with your own. You didn’t want to be caught staring at him twice in the last half hour. 

It was a fun time, singing with the band Bill had picked out. They were easy going, and they had fun with their jobs. They played upbeat, peppy songs and occasionally yelled out something to each other to keep the others in good spirits. They even cheered you on in between sets, and the drummer got you laughing a few times with well timed jokes. You smiled as you sang song after song, taking requests and talking with the crowd. The words fell easily enough from your lips as you kept the banter up, complimenting the wedding and the bride with her groom. This was where you were the shining star, singing for a crowd and chatting with them in between songs. 

It was at least two hours later before the music died down for a moment. “Take a break,” said the guitarist to your left. “Go ahead, no one will mind. You probably need a drink or somethin’, right?” You smiled at him and waved a thank you, setting the microphone back on the stand. You trotted down the stairs and joined the dance floor so you could push your way through to the other side. You headed towards a table with a spare seat, glad to sit down for a moment and alleviate your feet. It’d be lovely to find some punch to drink and cool off with. 

“Thirsty?” came a voice from behind you as you reached the table you’d spotted with a spare seat. You whirled so you could come face-to-face with Charlie, holding a spare glass of punch out towards you. You blinked at it for a moment before your mind caught up and you reached out to take it from him. 

“Thanks,” you told him reluctantly, looking into the drink before bringing it to your lips. 

“Don’t worry,” he told you a little awkwardly as a small smile came to his lips. “I didn’t spike it.” 

You hummed in response and took a deep pull from the cup. You managed to drink the entire thing in one go before allowing the cup to fall from your lips. Your eyes remained on Charlie as you studied him, looking him over while you were otherwise occupied drinking. He looked more tan than the last time you’d seen him, but considering it’d been two years, you weren’t surprised. His muscles were a lot more defined as well, and he didn’t look as miserable as you’d always hoped he’d be without you. You set the cup down on the table and slid into a seat, pushing your hands through your hair before you could think better of it. You’d probably just destroyed your nicely done up hair. Charlie took the seat across to you without asking if it was okay. 

“I’ve wanted to talk to you for awhile,” he finally began but you quickly cut him off before he could get going. 

“Charlie,” you said with a shake of your head. “I don’t think we should have this kind of conversation here.” 

“(Y/N)\--” he started, but was cut off by another voice entering the conversation. 

“Oh ho ho,” came a voice from behind Charlie and you peered over his shoulder at the old woman who approached. She was much older than any other woman you’d ever met before, and she had a wizened, extremely wrinkled face. She walked forward quickly to take up the third chair in between you and Charlie, her breath huffing from her lungs. Her eyes went first to Charlie before going back to you. Charlie didn’t look at all pleased by her appearance. 

“Auntie Muriel,” he said and you jerked in surprise. Her eyes went away from you to Charlie this time. His Auntie Muriel? You’d heard a lot about her growing up with Charlie, and then becoming engaged to him, but you’d never met her. You forced a polite smile on your lips just the same, because you didn’t want to be rude to the old woman. 

“Charles,” Muriel said with a disapproving frown. Her eyes trailed from him to you, and she gave you a quick once over, one brow quirked. “Is this that girl you’re engaged to? That (Y/N) I heard so much about a few years ago? The muggle-born?” 

You turned to look at Charlie with both of your own brows raised. It would appear he hadn’t told a lot of his family about your break up, or at least no one outside of his direct family. You supposed you didn’t blame him. He probably didn’t talk to her enough to even think of sending her an owl. You watched him as he shifted about in his seat, wondering how he was going to handle the situation. His brown eyes went to you and then away a moment later, looking back at his great Aunt. 

“We broke up,” he told her firmly. “Two years ago, Muriel.” 

Muriel grunted. “Did you break up with him?” she asked you and jerked a thumb in his direction. You turned your gaze back to her and stopped watching Charlie. “I don’t blame you,” she said in a lower voice, almost a stage whisper. “These Weasleys. Hmph.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with the Weasleys,” you defended before you could think better of it. Your hands clasped together in your lap tightly as you attempted to look nonchalant. “I assure you.” 

Muriel studied you for a few more moments before huffing again. “You’re that famous singer, aren’t you? For that band?” 

“For _a_ band, yes,” you agreed while nodding. You wondered how on Earth she knew that much about you. Surely she read the Daily Prophet? That must be how she knew anything about you at all. You were in the gossip sections a lot. Your band had quickly risen in popularity over the last few years. There was always some debate in the entertainment section over whether or not you were dating someone or not. 

“Sonorus?” she asked and her brows furrowed as she seemed a bit unsure of the name. You blinked in surprise that she got the name correct. She did read the gossip section then. Imagine that. You would have never figured her for the type to keep up with entertainment gossip. You nodded your head to tell her she was right. “Pretty popular with the young kids these days,” she said. “Rubbage.” 

“Er, thank you?” You weren’t sure how you were supposed to take that. 

Muriel got up without another word and stomped off, leaving you staring after her with your mouth partially agape. “She’s like that a lot,” Charlie told you with a small smile. “You’ll get used to her.” Your eyes went back to him as your mouth snapped shut, brows furrowing together. Why would you need to get used to her? You had no reason to be around the Weasleys anymore like you used to, or to get involved with any of their distant relatives. Charlie seemed to realize his slip up at the same time, because suddenly his frown was back and harsher than before. “Please, after the wedding, can we talk?” 

“Sure,” you said after you thought it over. You didn’t owe him anything, but… it might be nice to get some closure or something. You looked at your empty cup again before you grabbed it and got to your feet. “Suit yourself. I’ll find you afterward. I’m going to get something else to drink now.” You stared at him for a moment later before you shook your head and dragged yourself from your thoughts. You strode off without another word, but you could feel his eyes on you as you walked away.


	3. (two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Sorry for the delay with this chapter. I've been distracted by other projects and fandoms. Anyway, here's the next chapter and I hope you all enjoy! I heavily encourage everyone to follow my [fanfiction tumblr](http://karenawilliams-sucka.tumblr.com), because I post updates and such about current WIPs and future projects on there.

You’d only had enough time to make it to the punch bowl before all hell broke loose. A patronous bounded into the middle of the dance floor. _“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming,”_ it announced before it vanished from view. 

There was barely any time to react before there were protective charms being thrown up. Figures appeared while other people disapparated away in a panic. You tried to get out of the swarm of people, but were caught up in the tide of guests as they jostled about. You tried to push through them-- to get to the Weasleys, to get to anyone you knew. You’d be okay if you could reach them, you hoped as much. You didn’t want to leave like a coward when they might need your help. You didn’t want to disapparate and find out later that something had happened to them. 

Someone shoved you harshly to the side and you tumbled. You caught yourself hard on your knees and hissed when the pain from the fall hit. You pushed yourself back to your feet, one hand diving into your clutch to fish out your wand. “Well, well,” came a voice from behind you and you whirled to come face-to-face with a Death Eater. His cowl prevented you from recognizing who it might be, but the voice that came from beneath it was cold and slightly mocking. “Look what we have here. Don’t I know you from somewhere? A famous singer, huh?” 

You raised your wand and, without even having to move your lips, fired the spell wordlessly. The man was blasted backward and you turned quickly, pushing your way through the thinning crowd. You could see Charlie up ahead, wand out, throwing out spell after spell. It was obvious the Weasleys were trying to buy enough time for all of their guests to get away. 

“Charlie,” you cried as you reached him and, quickly, he turned to look your way. 

“ (Y/N),” he said as he threw his hand out. It wrapped snugly around your shoulder and he pulled you to stand behind him safely. “What are you still doing here? You should have left while you could!” 

“I didn’t--” You were cut off before you could finish what you wanted to say. There was a loud blast and everything went eerily silent. There was no one left but the Weasleys, along with the Death Eaters and Ministry officials. Everyone stared each other down. 

“That’s enough,” came a harsh voice from one of the Death Eaters. “Lay down your wands.” 

You looked at Charlie fearfully to see what he’d say, and then around at the others gathered. There were still a few people here, you noted, that had been invited to the wedding but weren’t direct relatives. You stowed your wand once you saw Charlie do the same. You placed it back in your small clutch and clung tightly to the purse. “We have some questions for you all,” said the man who had first bid you all to disarm. “Let us return to the house for questioning, shall we?” 

Mr. Weasley stepped forward with his chin jerked upward. “What is this about?” he asked with a mask of courage. You felt pride in the way he handled this, because your knees were about to start shaking from the stress and fear coursing through you. The Ministry had fallen. Voldemort was pack in power. That didn’t bode well for you, being a muggle born and all. 

“Let’s go to the house,” the man said again through clenched teeth, “and we’ll talk about it there. Now. _Move_.” 

No one dared to say anything else about it. Everyone made their way slowly back toward the house. The men didn’t even ask to be invited inside, not that you’d thought they might. They shoved open the door and pointed for everyone to keep walking. Those who remained from the wedding party settled in various positions in the kitchen without having to be told. All heads turned in the direction of the Death Eaters who followed in at the rear. The Death Eater who seemed to have taken charge stepped forward to take point. “You’re first,” he said as he pointed his finger at Mr. Weasley. “This way. Don’t even try to test my patience.” 

The kitchen was as quiet as a tomb as you all waited for him to come back. It felt like hours-- hours cooped up together in the kitchen. You were seated next to Charlie, who had pushed his chair right up against your own and had his arm draped around your shoulders protectively. It was obvious he didn’t want the Death Eaters to think they could push you around. Occasionally he’d look toward you but you kept your head down and stared into your lap instead. Your hands were clenched painfully tight around your clutch like a lifeline. 

Suddenly Charlie’s hand came out to rub gently at your knuckles and you relaxed minutely. You looked up and your  (e/c) eyes caught Charlie’s own as he peered at you worriedly. You managed to force a small smile onto your lips before you looked away, back towards the door that Mr. Weasley had disappeared through a while ago. There hadn’t been any raised voices or sounds from that room, so you assumed things were at least going as well as to be expected. Mr. Weasley walked back out another ten minutes later. His face was paler than before and he appeared more shaky, but he managed to walk back to sit next to his wife. “You’re next,” the gruff man from before said and pointed at Mrs. Weasley. 

“What did he ask?” Bill piped up but he was quickly silenced when another Death Eater growled a warning at him. Mr. Weasley looked around the table at everyone, and then his eyes settled on you. He looked surprised for a moment while his eyes trailed to Charlie’s arm around you, and then he smiled gently before he looked back towards the door his wife had disappeared through. You tried not to think about what htat look could have meant. You weren’t sure you liked it. You didn’t want the Weasleys to get the wrong impression and think you’d gotten back together with Charlie. Charlie was just trying to comfort and protect you in a stressful situation. That was all. 

Slowly, one by one, they took everyone into that room. Each person came back out paler and more upset, weaker looking than before. They sat back down without a sound as they were released back into the kitchen. “You’re next,” they finally said and pointed at you. Charlie’s arm tightened almost painfully around you, and he opened his mouth like he was going to argue. You quickly nudged him in the side. You got smoothly to your feet and handed your clutch to Charlie. 

“Watch that please,” you told him in a quiet whisper, then walked towards the door they were pointing you at. You entered the living room and tried not to wince when the door snapped closed behind you. You could hear Charlie say something as it closed, probably to argue you were being taken in there alone. It wasn’t going to make much difference. Everyone has had been told to go in without someone with them, so you’d be no different. If this was any other time, you’d probably have been amused by how protective he was acting when the two of you had been separated for so long, but not today. Today, you wished he could defend you, keep you safe, and wrap his arms around you to tell you everything was going to be okay. 

Nothing was ever going to be okay again, you thought. Not if Voldemort was in power now. 

“Your name…” The man looked at you closely as he stood a few feet in front of your perch on a recliner. You’d quickly walked to it to sink onto it in hopes that your legs wouldn’t give out beneath you at any moment. “It’s (Your Full Name), correct?” A shiver travelled up your spine that he already knew who you were. It turned your stomach to think that Death Eaters listened to your music, or at least knew who you were enough to recognize you. 

You were reluctant to admit to your true identity. If you did, then maybe he’d know you were muggle born and things would explode in your face. If you didn’t, however, then surely he’d easily be able to find out and call your bluff. “I am,” you admitted after a brief moment of hesitation. 

“Mmm,” the man murmured as he paced in front of you. He fingered his wand almost threateningly as he cast glances your way. The silence stretched longer than you thought necessary, but you didn’t try to raise a complaint. Your eyes stayed on his wand in fear as your veins iced over with horror. Your heart pounded so hard in your chest you were surprised it hadn’t decided to burst through your ribcage all together. “You’re a muggle born,” the man stated as if there was no question as to your lineage. “Some famous witch in some band called… Sonorus, was it?” 

You swallowed hard when he mentioned your parentage. There had been a flash in his eyes when they’d looked at you while saying that part, and it made you uneasy to admit to it readily. “Yes,” you replied slowly. You drew the word out as much as you could, unsure of yourself for having to admit to it. Why was he questioning you? He seemed to already know all he needed about you. 

“Where’s Harry Potter?” the man demanded and his hands slammed down on either side of the chair you’d sunk in. It startled you so much that you cried out in surprise. There was a sound from the other room-- a scrape of a chair and then a shout from someone to sit back down. You tried to push that out of your awareness. Obviously they’d heard your shout and reacted to it. More than likely it’d been Charlie who’d tried to stand up and get to you. You shut your eyes and shook your head. 

“I don’t know,” you answered in a quavering voice. You’d never met Harry Potter before in your life. You knew the Weasleys were close to him, but honestly you’d never set eyes on the boy before. “I’ve never met him before--” 

“Liar!” the man roared the word in your face and reached out to grasp your shoulders. He gave you a hard shake as if that would jostle the location of the Boy Who Lived from you. “You’re all lying! Especially you, you filthy **mudblood**!” 

“Don’t call me that,” you yelled back before you could stop yourself. You were so used to yelling it at people when they threw the insult at you that it came naturally at this point. It was like second nature whenever you responded to it. A sharp pain struck your cheek as he smacked you. He drew back a moment later as one of your hands came up to cup your face. His wand pointed calmly at your chest and you stared at it with wide eyes. 

“You’re going to tell me where Harry Potter is,” he said calmly. 

“I told you,” you replied through clenched teeth, “that I _don’t know_.” 

“Tell me where he is, or so help me. The Dark Lord is in power now. Horrible things are coming your way, you disgusting mudblood. If you tell me, maybe I’ll speak on your behalf. Maybe you can get a better sentence.” His eyes gleamed as his wand remained pointed steadily over your heart. His words were hissed at you through clenched teeth. 

“I don’t _know_ ,” you told him against as you narrowed your eyes. You glared at him as you clenched your fists in your lap. “I’ve never even met the kid! _I’ve never met Harry Potter before in my life_!” This last part was shouted because you were quickly losing your patience. 

“ **Tell me where he is** ,” the Death Eater screamed at you. 

“ **Even if I knew, I’d never tell you!** ” you yelled in reply. Your patience had slipped past your grasp and you’d shouted the words before you could stop yourself. Your chest heaved as you breathed harshly through your nose to try and settle your nerves. How dare he keep you here, screaming at you and asking you to give up the Boy Who Lived! You’d never tell him, even if it killed you, you’d never give up the location of someone who might help all of wizarding kind. Even if you knew him, even if you knew where he might be, you’d rather keep your lips sealed than divulge that information. The Weasleys had obviously put their lot in with him, and you’d follow their lead on this as well. 

There was a bang and you screamed as a harsh pain sliced over your cheek where you’d been previously struck. Blood splashed from the wound and over your dress. “You filthy--” the man began as he moved forward slowly, poised like a snake as if to strike again, and he grasped your hair and dragged you to your feet. You fought back a moment later, and you tumbled out of his grasp when you struck him in the solar plexus. Before you could catch your footing you fell sideways and landed hard on the floor. You cried out as you scraped your arm against something sharp and sliced it open. 

More blood. Just what you needed. 

There was a loud, resounding slam that echoed through the room. You realized a few moments too late that someone must have hurried into the living room. “Stay away from her,” Charlie said and you pushed yourself up while clutching your arm. You ignored the blood that was still slowly sliding down from the wound on your cheek. The one on your arm seemed to be the worse of the two. You turned to face Charlie to see that he stood in the doorway, his wand pointed steadily at the Death Eater. “Don’t you dare touch her again.” 

“Charlie,” you muttered under your breath as you pinched your fingers tighter on the wound. You attempted to staunch the blood flow as you sat up on your knees. You could hear the other Weasleys in the kitchen. A loud argument and shouting had started up as soon as Charlie had made a move to get to you. You knew that the Death Eaters would either have to leave or start another fight soon, because they weren’t going to be in the Burrow much longer. Mr. Weasley stepped around Charlie with his wand also raised, a fierce frown on his lips. 

“Get out,” he said very calmly. “We don’t appreciate you attacking someone close to our family in our own home.” 

Tears stung your eyes as you tried to blink furiously to keep them at bay. God, you wanted to cry so badly. You wanted to openly weep that they’d defend you even after all this time apart. You bit your lip harshly to keep it from betraying your emotions barely held in check. It was easier to focus on the pain instead and that helped to keep you from bursting into tears. 

“Very well,” the Death Eater answered slowly as he held his hand up in surrender. “We’ll be leaving.” 

“We checked the rest of the house anyway,” another man replied from out in the kitchen. Your attacker moved out of the room swiftly and you stayed on the floor where you were, crouched and your free hand holding your injured arm. You watched Charlie turn and follow them into the kitchen to make sure they’d leave. Mrs. Weasley hurried in a moment later, her eyes worried as she bent down to fuss over you. 

“Oh dear,” she murmured as she looked at your face and then your arm. “I’m not very good at healing spells, I’m afraid. We finally get to see you again, dear, and look what happens.” 

“Bad luck, I suppose,” you replied and even managed to flash her a shaky smile. 

“Here,” came Fred’s voice. “I found some bandages.” 

“I’ll be able to heal the worst of it for your arm, at least,” Mrs. Weasley told you in a forced voice of lightness. “I’ll just clean up as much as I can, and we’ll be able to bandage the rest. Let go of your arm, dear. Let me handle it.” 

“Thank you,” you told her as you bit your lower lip. You released it after a moment and explained, “When I fell down, I must have sliced it against something.” 

Mrs. Weasley looked at you and then nodded. “I’ll look to both of the cuts,” she promised you. “We’ll get you back to better shape quick as can be.” 

Suddenly Charlie was there next to you. He hovered behind his mother and his worried eyes searched your face. You looked anywhere but at him, as tears clouded your vision. You hated when you cried, but it seemed there wasn’t much you could do about it now. Everything was falling apart. Voldemort was back in power and surely that meant you were in trouble. Your family was in trouble as well. You’d have to get to them before something happened. You had to tell them before everything got bad enough that you wouldn’t be able to reach them. You didn’t want them to be punished because of your relation to them, because you’d been born a witch. 

When Mrs. Weasley had done as much as she could-- and bandaged what remained of the cuts-- she got back up and held her hand to assist you. “Come on,” she said gently as she helped you to your feet. “Let’s have you sit down properly.” 

“What made him snap?” Mr. Weasley asked as he studied you worriedly. He perched in the seat across from the sofa where you’d settled onto. 

“He knew I was a muggle born,” you muttered as you picked worriedly at the stains on your dress. Charlie was quick to sit next to you and he threw an arm around your shoulder for comfort. You were way too tired and strung out to tell him not to, that you two weren’t an item anymore and he didn’t have to treat you so kindly. You were just too exhausted however. You didn’t have enough energy to rebuke him. “I think that made him really angry.” 

“They were looking for Harry,” Bill said from the entrance to the living room. He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “That’s what they were asking you all about too, right?” Everyone nodded in reply. “Me too,” Bill replied to the room at large. Fleur sniffled and Bill wrapped an arm tightly around her to pull her against him. “It’s okay, Fleur. It’ll be alright,” he whispered as he pressed his lips to the side of her head. 

You stared off into the distance with unfocused eyes. What could they possibly have planned for muggle borns? You were going to have to go into hiding. That much was for certain. You’d have to pack up and move your entire family. Your little brother was going to be furious. He was always mad at you, always jealous, and this would only make him more resentful. He’d have to uproot himself and his own life just because of what you were born as. He’d never forgive you. You were certain of it now. 

“I should go,” you mumbled as you got to your feet. 

“What? No!” Charlie said quickly and gently snagged your hand. He dragged you back down to sit next to him again. “It’s not safe. Stay the night here.” 

“Yes, (Y/N),” Mr. Weasley said softly as he peered at you steadily. “We’ll have to insist that you spend the night here. I’d hate for you to leave and get hurt out there in the chaos.” 

“You and Charlie can share a room,” Mrs. Weasley said hopefully. It was clear that, even in the midst of the hell that was being raised, she was still hoping you and Charlie would work through your differences. “If that would make you feel safer.” 

“I don’t--” 

“Yes,” Charlie said as he squeezed you tightly against him. “If that’s alright with you, (Y/N). Please.” His eyes sought out yours and you turned so you could look at him dead on. “We need to speak more, and it’d make me feel better if you were close enough that we could protect you if the need arose.” 

Sighing, you gave up and nodded. You didn’t have enough energy to continue to argue with him. Especially since it seemed like they genuinely cared about your well being and didn’t want you to come to harm. “Okay,” you replied and the matter was settled. “You can sleep down here in the living room. Arthur and I can take Ron’s room for the night, and then let the ghoul have it again after,” Mrs. Weasley told you as she got up to bustle about. She readied the living room a bit and tidied it up. Charlie had disappeared after he said he was going to go with Ginny to find you some pajamas to wear. Mrs. Weasley stopped after a moment and turned to face you. Her brown eyes were warm as she smiled softly at you. “Dear,” she said and took a few steps forward. She raised a hand and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your eyes. “It’s good to see you again. We’ve missed you.” 

Your throat closed over and a lump rose uncomfortably as the words washed over you. You wanted to cry all over again now because of them. “I missed you guys too,” you whispered weakly and tried not to let them wobble with your emotions. 

“When Charlie told us the two of you had split, well…” She trailed off and shook her head. “We were so upset. You were already a part of our family by then, after dating him for so long.” 

You nodded your head, because you weren’t sure what else to say. She paused and studied your face, her eyes roaming over your features, and then they connected with your own. “I think Charlie regrets what he did,” she told you in a quiet voice. “I know that doesn’t help you feel any better about it-- especially after so many years-- but he really does seem miserable without you.” 

“Miserable?” you asked and raised your brows. You pushed an awkward laugh out from between your lips. He didn’t seem very miserable to you. He seemed content with his lot in life. He had the dream job he’d always wanted, his loving family to be there to support him, and he probably could get any girl he wanted if he chose to. What could he possibly be lacking? “He doesn’t seem that unhappy to me.” 

“Oh, after so many years apart, maybe you’ve gotten a bit rusty at reading him,” she told you with a kind smile. “But I haven’t. He’s happy enough, but he’s not the way he was when he had you.” 

“Mrs. Weasley,” you said in a tight voice. You didn’t want to talk about this anymore. You didn’t want to feel like there was something still there between you and her son. Hope was an awful feeling, and you didn’t want to feel like you still had a chance with him. You’d always wanted the happily ever after with Charlie. There’d never been anyone else for you. You didn’t want this false hope to be shoved upon you so it’d hurt worse in the end. 

“Molly,” she insisted. 

“Molly,” you said rather awkwardly. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m quite certain Charlie doesn’t want us to get back together. He was the one who broke it off.” 

“Did you ever get his reason?” she asked with raised brows. 

“Well, no,” you told her but she cut you off. 

“Maybe you should ask him, dear,” she said and reached up to pat your cheek gently. “Goodnight.” She moved toward the living room door and then disappeared through it. You were left alone with your thoughts. You sagged back onto the couch and your head fell forward into your hands as you heaved a heavy sigh. There was just too much to think about. You didn’t want to have to think about Charlie, and the feelings he invoked inside of you, and the way he’d protected you tonight like he’d use his own body as a shield to get you through everything safe and sound. You didn’t want to think about how you ached for him every night-- even after all these years-- and how your last thought before sleep was always his face that showed up behind your lids before you drifted off to sleep. 

“Here,” Charlie said as he entered the living room. He held out a very large t-shirt for you to take. “This was all Ginny could find that’d be comfortable for you to wear to bed.” 

“Thank you,” you said as you allowed your hands to fall away so you could drag your head up to look at him. You held out your hand and took the shirt from him, but made no move to change into it right away. You stared at him for several long moments as the silence thickened between you both. Your tongue flicked out to wet your lips but you still didn’t say anything. You didn’t even know where you wanted to begin. 

“We should talk,” Charlie murmured and he seated himself on the footstool in front of you. He placed his elbows on his knees and cupped his chin in one hand, so he could peer at you unwaveringly. 

“We should,” you agreed. 

“About that night five years ago,” he pressed. 

“Yes, I’d like that,” you responded. 

Chalrie was silent for several heartbeats. His eyes searched your own as he tried to decipher your expression. You could see on his face that he was having a hard time of it. You couldn’t make heads or tails of him either. He was like a book barely cracked open; you could get a brief reading of the letters, but nothing too in depth like you needed. He opened his mouth like he would speak, but then snapped it closed a moment later. 

“Charles,” you said in a firm, serious voice. You didn’t like that he just dragged this on. You rarely ever used his full given name in the past except when you were trying to press him into telling you something, or he’d done something wrong. 

Charlie sighed and allowed his eyes to drift closed as he reached up and scratched the back of his neck. “Okay,” he said and then shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “I don’t know where to begin, exactly. After these last few years of begging whatever higher power there is that I could see you again, that I could get a chance to explain, now I just don’t know what to say.” 

“Sounds tough,” you responded dryly. “Why don’t you just throw yourself into it and toss your cares to the wind? Starting with the reasoning behind everything could be a good start.” 

Charlie nodded. “Good idea,” he agreed. He still didn’t say anything right away. Instead he looked you over and his eyes roamed your face with such intensity that you were sure he was trying to press you into his memory. Obviously he knew you were going to be upset by whatever he said to you. “That night, when I broke up with you, I’d been thinking heavily on our future.” 

He paused as if he thought you’d say something. When you didn’t he continued, “Some guys at work had been asking why you lived in England while I was in Romania. They had wives and girlfriends who relocated with them, who lived with them in Romania, and they were curious as to whether you were serious about me.” You tilted your head to the side and raised your brows. “I told them you lived in England because it was easier for you. You had a job, your singing career was just getting off the ground, and you had an apartment that was a good price.” 

“Right,” you said when he paused and didn’t continue right away. You wanted to show you were still listening and had followed him up to that point. 

“They pointed out that I already had my little cabin, that you could live there and not have to worry about money or anything,” he finally dragged out of himself. “They said maybe there was something else-- maybe you didn’t want to be in a serious relationship with me. I… I don’t know. I just, I guess to me that made sense. Why would you want to be with a dragon tamer? You were going to be famous-- a great singer everyone would be after. You could get anyone you wanted. Why should I hold you back?” 

“Hold me back?” you asked incredulously. He couldn’t be serious. You’d been head over heels-- completely and utterly devoted-- with this man since you were practically children. You hadn’t wanted anyone else _ever_. It’d always only been Charlie. Still was, if you were honest with yourself. You’d tried to date others, but it had always ended in disaster. Charlie was the only one you could ever see yourself with. “You have got to be kidding me, Charles Weasley.” 

“Listen, I know it sounds stupid,” Charlie said quickly. His eyes snapped up to meet your own  (e/c) ones. “I know it sounds like the most moronic thing to do. Only a complete idiot would think to do that, but you know… I don’t know. At the time it made sense to me.” You pursed your lips together, but didn’t say anything. You knew he wasn’t done yet. “So I broke up with you,” he told you, “and I’ve been regretting it with everything inside myself ever since.” 

You still didn’t say anything. Charlie looked pleadingly at you, as if asking you with just that look for your forgiveness. He reached out and grasped your hands, rubbing his thumb gently over the skin there. “I messed up,” he whispered to you in an achingly sad voice. You could feel your heart clenching up just hearing it, but you struggled to keep your face impassive. “I really messed up, (Y/N). You were my other half, and I shouldn’t have torn myself apart like I did. I shouldn’t have hurt _you_ like that. Every day I work and I eat and I sleep, but I’ve never found anything that has made me as unbelievably happy as you made me.” 

“Charlie,” you said and shook your head while you sighed. 

“Please,” he told you and squeezed your hands tightly between his own. “Won’t you think about giving me a second chance?” 

“Chalrie,” you began again, but you weren’t sure what else to say. What else was there to say? Your heart was begging you to accept, to say you’d give him another chance. Do it, do it, it kept chanting at you. Your head, though, oh boy, your brain was screaming at you that you’d be a fool to give him another chance. He’d tore you up that first time, imagine the horrors he could do if given a second chance to run amok with your heart. “I don’t know.” 

“Think about it,” Charlie said and, slowly, reluctantly, he released your hands. “Sleep on it, okay?” 

“Okay,” you agreed because there really wasn’t much else you could say. You quickly got to your feet with the pajama shirt held tightly in your hands. “I’m going to get changed.” You’d like to get out of this dress now and into something more comfortable. After the day you’d had any sort of comfort would be nice right about now. 

“Alright,” he replied. He got up and quickly stripped off his pants. His eyes were still holding your own. They dared you to say something or to tell him not to strip in front of you. “I don’t mind changing in front of you,” he told you in a low voice. “You’ve already seen it all.” 

You swallowed hard. It looked like his body had only gotten better over the years. You tried not to allow your eyes to trail downward as he unbuttoned his shirt and threw it on the ground. His eyes were focused on your face as a small smirk danced at the edges of his lips. “I…” You trailed off and had to swallow hard to get your voice back. Your whole body thrummed with the need to reach a hand out to touch that body, to allow your hands to map the planes and hard muscles you knew were there. You hadn’t had any sort of physical relations in at least a year or more. Goodness… “I have to go get changed,” you told him in a tightly controlled voice. You turned and fled from the living room so you could lock yourself in the bathroom right down the hall. 

Charlie Weasley was going to be the _death_ of you.


End file.
